


in his place he left hope

by clementiine



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-20 06:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16131263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clementiine/pseuds/clementiine
Summary: He’s not quite sure what led him to believe in hope in the first place.And yet he did. He believed in hope, and he cherished it and adored it and loved it, and to some it was a sick sight, a ghastly thing. That someone, a person, a human being would devote their life to such a thing, such a concept such as hope. But it was true – it was true, and he would not deny the fact that he adored the thing that was hope. It was the most important – the only important thing he had in his life. In fact, he could say it was his only purpose in life.And he would not have it any other way, he thinks. Because when he is gone, when he is dead and when he has passed on, he will be forgotten. His name, his memories, his personality, his belongings -- nothing would remain once he has died, once his duty has been fulfilled. They will all be erased, they will all be gone. Because he hasn't made any friends, has he? He had no family, either.He was born alone, he had lived alone, and now, he would die alone.





	in his place he left hope

He’s not quite sure what led him to believe in hope in the first place.

 

And yet he did. He believed in hope, and he cherished it and adored it and loved it, and to some it was a sick sight, a ghastly thing. That someone, a person, a human being would devote their life to such a thing, such a concept such as hope. But it was true – it was true, and he would not deny the fact that he adored the thing that was hope. It was the most important – the only important thing he had in his life. In fact, he could say it was his only purpose in life.

 

No, he was _sure_ it was his only role. He had been born for the sake of hope, for hope alone. It was the only good thing he had ever had, the only thing that had ever remained with him. Hope was the only good in the world, the only thing that would remain, even after everything would be sent to ruins. And he was nothing but a pawn. Nothing but a stepping stone, nothing but a life who's sole purpose was to live and die for hope.

 

That was what he truly believes, what he's truly convinced himself all these years. Because despite everything that's happened, despite the falls and bruises and wounds and hurting and _pain_ of it all, he's had hope with him. He's had hope to keep him going, to keep him fighting, and now he has hope, hope to fuel him, to remind him of his purpose, of his only reason, his only goal.

 

And he would not have it any other way, he thinks. Because when he is gone, when he is dead and when he has passed on, he will be forgotten. His name, his memories, his personality, his belongings -- nothing would remain once he has died, once his duty has been fulfilled. They will all be erased, they will all be gone. Because he hasn't made any friends, has he? He had no family, either. No one who cared to remember, to keep him in their mind, to give him a single penny, to save him, help him, do _some_ _\--_

 

He was born alone, he had lived alone, and now, he would die alone.

 

And all that would be remembered of him will be his contributions to hope. To the concept, the beautiful belief that is hope. Should anyone ever try and remember him, the only thing to come to mind will be what he's done in the name of hope. The only meaning his life will ever have will be all he's done for hope. People will come and go, they will rise and fall, and buildings will burn and planes will crash and children will go missing. The cycle will continue, life being born and erased, and nothing will be remembered of him, nothing at all.

 

Only the hope he had created. The absolute, shining hope.

 

_( but is that what he really wants? to be forgotten so easily? to be left behind, erased, erased without anyone anyone at all caring -- )_

 

 

There are times, though, times where he has dangerous thoughts. Where he thinks, he thinks for a moment. No -- he _dreams_ , he allows himself to think beyond the truth, beyond reality. he allows himself to have beautiful, dangerous thoughts, thoughts of freedom and of living _normally,_ of enjoying things without the second thought, the impending doom of his luck cycle. There are times where he has these thoughts, thoughts that consume him and leave him confused, wondering, dreaming, _hoping_ , that maybe --

 

There are times where he has dangerous, **meaningless** thoughts.

 

 

( and they are undeserving of hope's time, just as he is undeserving of anything, anything but the role of hope's stepping stone. )

 

He will not let these thoughts change him, change him or his goal, he decides. He pushes them back, back to the far corners of his mind, where they will be forgotten, just like how he will be forgotten one day, and carries on.

 

His eyes scan the contents of the warehouse now, and he takes in the boxes upon boxes of merchandise, all themed after the two-toned bear. His nose wrinkles in disgust.

 

( the bear themed after despair, after something so foul he dared not utter the word at times. )

 

He takes a step forward, and he notes how loud it is, how quickly the sound spreads throughout the building. He will have to do something about that later, won't he? He could not mess a single part of his plan, not at all. It has to be perfect, everything has to go just accordingly. He could not fail, he could not fail at all.

 

( he will rid the world of despair, rid it if it's the last thing he does. )

 

And it will be. Because he himself is not free from sin, either. His classmates are wretched, are horrible, are full of sin and filth and _despair_ and the intent to murder, but he is grudgingly mo different. He has done foul, foul things, and for that, he will have to die, too.

 

( but it will be for the sake of hope, and that's what makes it alright. right? )

 

There is only one person, one truly deserving to be called a beacon of hope, one person from them all who's never committed sin. And he's sure, he's sure it's not him, nor is it **him** , even though he would like for it to be. It's one of the others, one of the others that's the traitor, that's free from sin. That hasn't let despair touch them, hasn't given up hope. It's them that he finds himself wishing to know the identity of, so that he would not fail with his plan.

 

But he knows they won't. He's not sure why they won't, but for reasons of their own they've remained hidden.

 

It was no matter, though. It would not be an issue. Because he truly believed in hope, which meant that nothing, absolutely nothing would stop him from achieving his goal. He would make do with what he knew already, and he would trust something, something that's harmed him one too many times before, and will never stop harming him until his very end.

 

He would trust his luck.

 

( his luck, his luck which hurt him oh so many times, and which would never stop hurting him, not until his last breath. )

 

His hands move swiftly, and a small knife cuts open into one of the boxes, multiple panels of the bear becoming visible as he does so. He moves swiftly, setting them in a row, like soldiers waiting to march to their death, before placing the lighter at the end, and exiting the warehouse.

 

He moves into the next room, now, and his eyes land on what he's looking for -- the fire grenades. There's so many of them, he thinks, so many options, so many scenarios that could happen. If he picked the first one? Or the second one from the far left? And if his luck fails him, if his luck fails him this time, he couldn't try again. The effects would be permanent, would they not? And then someone unworthy, undeserving would live. He would have failed, and he would have lost his purpose in life, lost his role.

 

". . ." He stares at the shelf, before picking the fifth one, staring down at it. This would be the one. And he would make sure that the right person threw it, that it didn't fall into **his** hands, either. He steps outside the building, slipping the grenade into the small bag he brought along, heading out onto the island's path. For a moment he thinks he sees someone else, someone in the distance sprinting between buildings. Someone.. Ah. But they wouldn't find him, not just yet. They aren't looking for him, either, he's made sure of that with his wild goose chase. They're only focused on saving each other, on saving themselves. He was unwanted, un-cared for, and unloved.

 

As it should be.

 

. . .

 

It was all set up. He's made sure, made sure his plan will not fail, that absolutely nothing will go wrong this time. He's made sure his luck would not fail him, made sure that it would all go well.

 

( so, this was it? )

 

He would die soon. He will die soon. There is no denying that, no changing that. No going back now. He's slashed and stabbed and set it all up, and all he would have to do is wait, wait until the door would burst open, wait until the lighter would set the whole place on fire, _set it aflame and spinning and burning, kill everyone aboard the plane --_

 

( he was ready. )

 

He had to be. Because this was his final mission, was it not? His most important one, his most honourable one. It was this moment, this time that would decide whether he truly deserved to be given this role, to have lived a life at all. It was now, now that fate would judge whether he's done his part well, or ultimately failed. It was now that it would be decided whether his life had any value at all, or whether he was worthless, meaningless.

 

**Nothing.**

 

 

". . ."

 

But he's not really ready, is he? Despite telling himself over and over, he wasn't really ready to die. Even if it was for the sake of hope. He recalls the lies he's told himself, to trick himself into thinking he was. To trick others into thinking he was fine this way.

 

Alone.

 

 

It was foolish, he thinks, as he stares up at the point of the spear hanging above him. Foolish to request such a thing in that video. He was aware that he was not supposed to be remembered, not supposed to be appreciated as anything more than a filthy stepping stone. But he had went and done it anyway, he had requested one thing, and one thing only had his plan succeeded.

 

( and it will. because it has to, it has to no matter what. )

 

A shaky breath, and the door bursts open moments later like he anticipated. A few seconds, and the curtain is set aflame. It's not until he hears the screaming, the yelling over the dreadfully loud music, not until he hears the door slam, sees the flames lick at the walls of the warehouse, that he feels _doubt_ for another moment.

 

Was he really ready? He could go back now, couldn't he? He could try, he could sneak away and simply play it off, simply say it was another test of their abilities, or a distraction from the _real_ bombs, he could...

 

_( he couldn't do much, could he? even if he wanted to, there was barely anything he could do to stop his fate. all he could do was wait, wait and regret. )_

 

 

And the door slams open once more, and they burst in. The grenades start shattering besides him, and one by one, one by one they crack open, slowly diminishing the fire threatening to burn the entire place down.

 

_( but he knows that won't happen, because he's made sure of it, he's made sure that his plan wouldn't fail and **there's no going back now, not at all, he's made sure of it. this is what he's wanted for so long, isn't it? a chance to create hope, remember that this was for hope, that he shouldn't feel so hesitant about-- )**_

 

 

And a small, muffled gasp escapes him as the final one shatters. And he immediately knows it's the right one, he immediately knows it's the one because of the way the air changed around him. There really was no going back, was there?

 

He would die. He will die.

 

He stares, wide eyed, as the realization fully sinks in. He's not going to live. He's not going to live a normal life at all. Those meaningless dreams would stay that, and he will never -- he will never get to hear those words, words that he's spoken once before, spoken before and fell upon deaf ears.

 

**'Please don't leave.'**

 

Because he was born alone, he has lived alone, and he will die alone, right now.

 

And it's now, he realizes, that he'll be taking down others with him, as well. He'll be taking them down, and he'll be...he'll be taking **him** down.

 

His grip on the cord slackens slightly, and his eyes droop, and he stares up, wide-eyed. It's now, he thinks, now that he dies. And it's in these dying moments, these last, lonely moments of his where he thinks of one thing, and one thing alone.

 

Because he wants to be remembered, he really does, and it's as he finally stills, as she spear slips and impales him, that he finally asks for one thing, one thing that he's undeserving of. One thing he's never truly asked for before.

 

Komaeda Nagito hopes his plan fails. Just this once.

 

He's not ready to die for hope.

 

( but, he ends up leaving it in its place anyway, doesn't he? )

**Author's Note:**

> I'm. not really good with tags I did my best. JLSGDFLSDFJKSFG


End file.
